In Pursuit of the Nomadic Lifestyle

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I made it to the mountains of West Virginia mid afternoon. There were short bursts of light rain that gave way to warm rays of sunlight which made the lush green hills surrounding me more vibrant. Though the scenery was strikingly beautiful, I have never driven on a road quite like this one. The highway felt like it was touching the sky and it was long and winding. Before every turn, it was hard to predict if I would be going on a steep incline or steep decline. I managed to keep my fear in check. Glancing at the fine mist rising over the hills reminded me to relax and focus. . After a few hours of driving, the hills finally gave way to a small town. I parked Eunice and took a look around. There were several mom & pop stores on the main road, modest homes scattered in the hills, off in the distance and a train going through the center of it all… slowly carrying heaps of coal! I stopped to look at at the endless piles of black rocks. That’s the stuff that has built our country. It’s something I don’t get to see everyday. I saw a billboard miles back advertising a Shoney’s Restaurant. I’ve always been curious about that chain so I decided to have an early dinner there. It was located by the tracks like everything else. Maybe, I’ll bump into an interesting coal miner to talk to. I walked into Shoneys and was promptly seated. Like many places I’ve been to before, it was a homogeneous crowd. The people were blue-collar and “down home”, what you would expect from a coal mining town. Even though I stuck out, I didn’t feel any eyes on me beyond a passing glance. The people seemed to be just minding their own business and enjoying their meals with friends and loved ones. My waitress quickly came to the table to take my order. I opted for the buffet and got right back up again. When I got to the buffet to fill up a plate, I was pleased with the country-styled selections offered. It was similar to Home Town Buffet, so, I was happy!

As I was piling up with fried chicken and mashed potatoes, one of the young, aproned attendants came out from the kitchen to replace a few entrees that were running low. He was slender, attractive, and mildly effeminate in his bearing. He looked at me with a warm smile and I politely reciprocated before looking at other savory dishes to cover my plate. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was still looking at me. “How often do you retwist your dreadlocks?” he asked. Puzzled, I stopped what I was doing to take a good look at him. “Once a month” I replied. “They look really pretty!” By this time, he was wiping down the counters. I asked him how did he know about my kind of hair. “I know about dreadlocks, braids, relaxers… I go to cosmetology school when I’m not here.” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. I was impressed… I told him how awesome it was that I came to the middle of West Virginia and bumped into a random white guy who has an interest in black hair care. I could only assume that he will not be staying in this town forever.

After my meal, I hopped back in Eunice and drove to the other side of the state to reach my destination, Point Pleasant… home of the legendary Mothman. It was late in the evening when I got there. Tired from a full day of driving, I checked my navigation system and opted to set up camp in Gallipolis, Ohio, right on the other side of the Ohio river, where they had a Walmart.

When I woke up the next morning, I took out my phone and searched for gyms with a shower that I could grift. There was not a one! I couldn’t say that I was surprised, because though Gallipolis and Point Pleasant were both nice and quaint, they were out of many things that other places have spoiled me with, like free hygiene. I started to search for creative alternatives and found that there was a community pool with showers that would only cost me five dollars for a daily pass.

When I got there, I found that the showers had no stalls or dividers, just clusters of plain, energy efficient shower heads like my old middle school locker room. There was a campground with showers, but the manager wasn’t home, only her killer Chihuahua who growled and followed me around the grounds. Three strikes! I didn’t think I would have to go back to taking sponge baths in my van again, but it would have to do. My only consolation was taking perverse humor in being a naked lady on Main Street in the middle of the day… and nobody knew!

Spot the naked lady!

After grooming, I decided to step out and check out the little shops of Point Pleasant. Main Street had an all-American look and feel, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was lined with prewar brick buildings that housed antique shops and discount boutique stores with walk up apartments on the top floor. I even saw an American flag or two hung outside… and it wasn’t even July! Then I came upon my main attraction, the Mothman Museum. The Mothman, by local accounts, is a creepy, supernatural creature with a tall, menacing moth-like body and large, glowing red eyes who haunts the area from time to time. People have seen him flying and making high pitched screeches, striking terror in those he chooses to encounter. The Mothman has been linked to several bizarre happenings; most notably, the Silver Bridge collapse in 1967 where 46 people lost their lives. I first learned of the Mothman upon the release of The Mothman Prophecies film in 2002, starring Richard Gere and Laura Linney. Of course, as with any Hollywood movie based on true events, there was a flood of articles, cable shows, and entertainment news segments saturating the media to pique people’s interest in the film and the folklore. Mission accomplished.

When I went into the museum, I was pleasantly surprised that it was like walking into a cool, hole-in-the-wall memorabilia store on Newbury Street in Boston. The atmosphere was quirky, fun and casual just like the patrons who took time from their travels to make the visit. The museum didn’t take itself too seriously and there was a statue of the Mothman hanging overhead to greet all who entered.

All around, there were countless of eerie artifacts, drawings, newspaper clippings, and even props and costumes from the movie. In the back, there was a dark room where you could sit down and watch an hour-long documentary about the Mothman that played on a continuous loop. And of course, tee-shirts were available to buy as a souvenir. By the front counter, there were two maps displayed that encouraged patrons to pincushion where they traveled from… I was amused to see that people people had come from ALL OVER the world! Weird stories reach far.

Film costumes and props

Backroom documentary screenings

Questions will always linger about who or what the Mothman is. There are several paranormal theories. Could he be an extraterrestrial, a ghost, a demon, or something that simply materialized because enough people started believing in him? Does it matter? Since there’s a sizable body count attributed to this entity, I say it’s best to leave it behind as a mystery and simply pray for God’s protection from things such as this!

I spent the next few days darting back and forth between Point Pleasant and Gallipollis. Apart from hanging out at McDonalds to people watch and go online, there really wasn’t that much to do. My only source of excitement was the uneasy feeling I’d get from driving over the Ohio River bridge and then making it safely to the other side. For the first time in my travels, I started to feel restless and bored and decided it was time to quickly move on. It was a bright Sunday afternoon and I figured a dash to the nearest city was what I needed. I couldn’t get on the highway to Dayton fast enough! My impulse was to floor the gas pedal, but I stuck to my rule of never going over 55-65 mph with Eunice. And it was a good thing, too.

Over the Ohio

Five minutes into my drive, I smelled a very foul odor in the air and wondered if there was a sewage treatment plant nearby. Seconds later, I heard a loud POP and my van suddenly dropped and tilted to one side. My tire blew out. I was able to maintain control and quickly pulled over to the emergency lane. I got out and took a look around my camper. My left, rear tire was half way stripped and the flapping rubber violently cracked my sewer valve and hit the sewer cap clean off. Not that you could call it clean. The sewer I had smelled was my own… and it trailed all down the highway!

I couldn’t believe my luck. It was like something in this town was keeping me from leaving. Of all the tires to blow out, it had to be that one! Of all the times during my travels that this could have happened, it had to be now! Seriously?!

Sidenote: I learned from experts that tires can blow out at any time even ones that are in good condition! I had mine inspected before hitting the road and it still happened to me. Never speed with your camper van or RV because it’s heavy and you need to be able to keep control if something unpredictable happens. Never risk an accident. For the other person involved, it will be just his car that’s out of commission; for you, it will be your home! Be safe fellow gypsies!

I left Virginia beach and headed back north to Richmond to see my cousin, Margene*, who was finally back from vacation. I regretted not planning my trip at this point more carefully because there was a political rally in Washington D.C. that I would have loved to be a part of. However, seeing Margene was enough, as I haven’t seen her since I was a married woman.

Margene, like Mona, was a part of the “Big Girl” set, having fun at things I couldn’t when I was very young and I admired her for it. Little has changed. One could call her a jetsetter as she’s always taking time off for adventurous excursions in exotic locations all over the globe. Being a successful, freelance project manager affords her that. Single, free and having both disposable time and income, she is a gypsy in her own right!

I vaguely remember a conversation we had over a decade ago, months before I met my ex husband. She had left teaching in the public school system and was doing very well in her new career. Her salary impressed me and I announced, “If I ever make $85,000 a year, I’m NOT getting married!” and I think I meant it. Being independent, free-spirited with money to burn, why risk ruining a good thing, knowing my family’s track record with men? Margene is golden and in a lot of ways, I still want to be like her.

When I finally got into Richmond, I stopped at McDonalds and texted Margene to meet me so I could follow her back to her house without getting lost. I was sitting in Eunice when she pulled up in a black luxury sedan. Like me, she was a second generation American. With her large, inquisitive dark eyes, keen features, and honey brown skin, no one can argue that she’s not beautiful. Relatives would comment that we shared a strong resemblance as children, but that was a very long time ago. She was a top cheerleader in high school and college (with the trophies to prove it) and from what I could tell from family photos, she was always surrounded by lots of friends. That’s no surprise since she also speaks and carries herself with a sassy kind of confidence. Dare I say she’s a Southern belle? And though her 20’s and 30’s are behind her, she still does not want for male attention.

I jumped out and gave her a big hug. When we reached her home, I noticed it was large and nicely decorated. It was hard for me to imagine that she could live in a place this size by herself. Then again, I’ve gotten to the point in van dwelling where I feel agoraphobic staying in hotel rooms!

When I got settled at her home, we got caught up with our lives and preliminary “family stuff”. I was thankful she didn’t ask for details about my decision to disown my mother, sister, and aunt five years ago… not that family spitefully taking your ex husband’s side in an ugly divorce needs much of an explanation.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you look so much like your Auntie!” Margene said with her sweet southern drawl. I felt it sharp in my gut, but she was right and I look a lot like my mother, too. Gypsy or not, you take yourself wherever you go. I’m reminded of that every time I see a photo of myself or catch my reflection from the wrong angle. Despite these occasional unpleasant reminders, somehow, I still manage to be content with my looks.

We enjoyed having some girl talk before turning in for the night and the subject fell on commitment. Margene told me plainly that she doesn’t want it and is happy with her life as is. There are many women who say this to fool themselves into being content with being single past a certain age. I didn’t sense this in Margene. She truly values her freedom. She does have her suitors and that’s what they will remain.

Maybe she could sense in me that I’m the type of gal who needs the physical and emotional security of a man. Though, I enjoy my time alone, I dislike being single. Perhaps, I would’ve felt differently if I took my career life more seriously in my youth.
The few days I had spent with Margene was fun! It was my first time hanging out with her as an adult. Her car sailed smoothly down the highway, which felt strange since I’ve gotten used to Eunice’s gentle rocking. She took me to Carytown, a quaint burrow of Richmond with cute, little boutiques and upscale shops.

We had a leisurely walk in the hot Virginia sun, weaving in and out any clothing or body care shops that struck our fancy. Towards the end of our stroll, we stopped at a cupcake cake shop to rest and indulge. In the evening, we took in a $1.99 second-run movie at the Byrde Theater, an absolutely gorgeous art deco venue with sumptuous, gilded details of a bygone era. We decided on watching 42: The Jackie Robinson Story. It turned out to be an excellent, inspirational film that I highly recommend.

Byrd Theater

The next day, we drove around Richmond proper, deciding on a place to eat. Margene asked what I was in the mood for. “Asian.” I said immediately. This is my answer eight times out of ten when asked such a question. We stopped at a place called Beauregard’s Thai Room. It was in a stately red brick townhouse with a black cast iron gated courtyard that was artfully lined with lush greenery.

When we walked up to the building, the owner was watering large potted plants with a hose. They weren’t open yet but he courteously unlocked the door and let us in to sit. He asked if we wanted to be seated in the courtyard, but we opted to avoid the unusually cool weather and chose a table by the window instead.

We had arrived so early, the waitresses were still trickling in to start their shifts! I wasn’t sure if the cook was in the kitchen yet. We perused the menu anyway. I ordered chicken pad see-ew and Margene decided on pad thai. Surprisingly, the food came quickly. I wonder if the owner had cooked our dishes himself. We caught up on more family happenings over our meal.

The waitress came to our table to refill our glasses of water and quietly placed the check on the table. I was happy to see that Margene didn’t notice. When my cousin left to use the restroom, I seized the opportunity to pay for the check. It was the right thing to do. She paid for everything since I had arrived and she had made me a delicious breakfast on top of that! I quickly took my debit card out of my purse, motioned the waitress to come over and handed it to her. Right after she disappeared to the front of the restaurant, Margene came back and we continued our conversation. Perfect! Moments later the waitress came back with an awkward smile. “Sorry Ma’am… Your card did not go through.” She said in a delicate voice, pressing through her thick accent. She handed the card to me. “I tried doing it three times.” She explained.

“Bloody Hell!” I thought to myself. I was so embarrassed that I felt my throat closing in and my face flushed with heat. I looked over to my cousin, “I know I had money in there yesterday… I checked.” My weekly unemployment deposit had come in days ago, I was sure it was okay to make purchases. Without missing a beat, Margene handed the waitress her card without breaking eye contact with me. “That’s what ya get for tryin’ to be slick!” she smirked. “All these years when I went up north to visit your mother, I never had to pay for anything… and that’s how it is when you’re here with me.” She said. I thanked her and nodded in acceptance. “When you get settled in your place in Texas and I come to visit, you’ll have the chance to be just as hospitable.” She continued. “I hope she won’t mind staying in a wigwam in the middle of the prairie with Beau and me.” I thought to myself.

The next day, we visited one of Margene’s many good friends, Linda* for the afternoon. Like Margene, she was attractive, content, gainfully employed and lived very well. She was yet, another example that one could have a fulfilled life without a partner. Her home was also beautifully decorated and spacious. The marked difference between her and my cousin was that she had two beautiful daughters. Linda had prepared lunch and served us wine and drinks. We talked and laughed. I knew early on, it was going to be time well spent.

We, naturally, got on the subject of men. I shared with them how Beau, being the outdoorsman that he is, was fixing to make me a squirrel bikini. They burst out in laughter and disbelief! Is there an emotion to describe disgust and amusement?

Linda was getting into the dating game again and showed us her online profile on Match. She also showed us the profile of a good-looking, seemingly decent man who showed interest in her, but she was reluctant to proceed with him… he was white. Though she could objectively appreciate handsomeness in all races of men, she has trouble being attracted to Caucasian men sexually. My cousin also shares this preference (or lack thereof). However, a Hispanic or other man of color just may make the cut! Since I’ve “been over the fence” many times, I indulged them by describing the differences between dating white men and black men. And yes, I find that there is a difference… but that is a talk for another day!

The next morning, Margene was headed to work and I was headed to West Virginia. She bottled me some fresh juice from her juicer to take along with me and let me use her outside water spigot to fill my tank. I’ll most likely see her again in a couple of years.

Spending time with Margene was like peeking into what my life would’ve been like in an alternate universe. It’s best to choose what makes you happy at any given juncture in your life. And it’s important to accept that there will always be tradeoffs in one way or another. Who is to say that having a steady relationship or marriage is more of a personal accomplishment than being single? After all, it’s just as tricky to cultivate a tribe of good and trusted friends.

This blog has thoroughly permeated my life. It’s like a curse that I’ve somehow put on myself to live according to these holidays without even planning. Usually it’s a blessing – like National Chili Day when I happened to have randomly stashed a single can of chili in the cupboard and thus was blessed with an easy dinner – but today it definitely resembles a curse. Last night, I kid you not, I was looking at the holidays coming up before I hit the hay and I thought ‘oh great – let’s see what I do tomorrow to embarrass myself’… I knew I wasn’t going to have to try to have an awkward moment but I thought I would at least have to beef it up a little. Alright, I know – you’re looking at that photo up there thinking ‘what in the world did she actually do?’

Many of you may not know that I’m a vandweller who’s also a professional voice over artist! I decided to offer my services on Fiverr… Enough gigs can add up to a lot of gas money! In an effort to promote myself, I have listed a video link below with my voice demo for all to share!

Yesterday at the conference I met Rosy. Right from the start she seemed to be the most interesting person in the room. I met her just before the Ladies Coffee, which was a social time built into the conference. I didn’t register for the Ladies Coffee right away just because the idea of a Ladies Coffee didn’t really appeal to me. I don’t really fit in with most of the women there. But the Holy Spirit had urged me to register for it at the last minute, so I did. I asked Rosy if she was going to the Ladies Coffee, and she said that she was. So we went off together, leaving her boyfriend, Bobby, to attend the next session without us.

Rosy is doing something that I had always dreamed of doing, but never had the freedom or the resources to do: she lives in her fully-equipped camper…

My cousin, Mona* was expecting me in Virginia Beach during the week. I opted to have a few days to myself and do some exploring before visiting her on her day off. I’ve been to Virginia several times before as a child and I’ve always had fun family memories here. I decided to hit the beach.

When I arrived at the coast, finding free parking for my van was too much of a hassle. I caved in and paid five dollars to a Catholic Church that rented out its parking lot to tourists during the week. Though the weather was very warm, I had no intention of swimming. Instead, I walked all along the boardwalk to take in the scenery. I saw families riding together in rented bikes, lovers holding hands, and children running around in the sand. It felt good being surrounded by so much energy and joy. I came upon carnival rides, including one of my favorites, the swinging Viking ship, which will turn your stomach inside out. I considered buying a few tickets, but the zeal quickly passed me. I don’t want my stomach turned inside out… I guess I am a grown up now! I wandered off the boardwalk and window shopped at many of the interchangeable souvenir shops in town.

The next day, I visited Edgar Cayce’s Association for Research and Enlightenment (A.R.E.). Edgar Cayce is known as “The Sleeping Prophet” and “The father of Holistic Medicine”. He has given psychic readings to thousands of clients while in an unconscious state where he would diagnose illnesses and foretell the future. Visiting A.R.E. was a big deal for me because I’ve been interested in Cayce’s work as a Christian psychic, prophet and healer since I first heard about him on the show, Unsolved Mysteries in the 1980’s.

Edgar Cayce Portrait

I attended their free, guided tour of the visitor center, watched an orientation film and enjoyed two spiritual lectures: Holistic Healing and Spiritual Awareness. Edgar Cayce believed Virginia Beach was one of the safest places in the world to live because he felt it would be naturally protected from dramatic climate changes. It was pointed out to us that (unlike other towns in close proximity) the area has yet to be devastated by hurricanes. This wasn’t hard to believe. Virginia Beach, by the water has a very peaceful, dream-like, spiritual vibe to it. The breeze from the ocean was always warm, soft and regenerating.

Cayce’s reading couch

Library holding 14,000 Cayce readings

Before I left, I decided to walk their outdoor Labyrinth to meditate on a concern I had about Beau* and the direction of our relationship. I found myself growing suspicious of him. Though we talked twice a day, something wasn’t right. Questions about him and about us flooded my brain and overwhelmed me. This is normal when you’re away from your man for so long, right? Before I entered the labyrinth, I took a deep breath and with the warm ocean breeze guiding my back, I meandered along its snakelike path. I recited the Holy Rosary a dozen times to quiet and focus my anxious mind. Within 30 minutes, I reached the end and gained clarity but not comfort.

Labyrinth

Edgar Cayce was quoted as saying, “You are your own best psychic.” As a very intuitive person, I understood. However, it didn’t stop me from seeking out the services of a psychic reader affiliated with A.R.E. I was second guessing myself and needed confirmation that there was, indeed, a sword hanging over my head.

I met Gwen* at her office across town. She invited me to have a seat in an armchair angled closely towards hers. She had a pen, pad and pendulum ready. I asked her if it was okay to record our session and she was fine with it. I took out my phone and activated the voice recorder app. She asked to hold something that belonged to me. I handed her my keys. I decided to refrain from volunteering any information during my reading and save my specific concerns for last.

It’s understood that no psychic is 100% accurate, but the things Gwen picked up about me were on point. I asked her about my soul’s purpose (a question A.R.E recommends readees ask). “To bring joy wherever you go… wherever you are planted. It doesn’t matter if you’re at your job, at home, or just out gettin’ a burger that’s what you do.” She said with a husky Southern drawl. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not. Whenever you enter a situation or room, the energy just lifts…. People respond to you.” No, I haven’t noticed this… I was puzzled because most of the time, I’m rather low-key. Then I remembered strangers and random people I’ve met over the years making a point to tell me the same thing, that I have a “good spirit” or they felt really good being around me. I’ll take it!

I asked her about my family. “You get picked on a lot.” She said plainly. I surrendered to the fact that she wasn’t speaking in the past tense. “That’s right, I’m the scapegoat.” I confirmed. She continued, “The reason you’re the scapegoat is because of that special energy you carry.” “Really?”, I was surprised. “Seriously. I’m from the smoky mountains of east Tennessee. We had chickens running free in the yard during the day. What amazed me was that there would always be one chicken that would stray farther out in the garden than the others. She was probably looking for juicier worms somewhere else. The rest of the chickens would attack and peck her because they considered her different! You’re different. They perceive you as weak, when you’re actually very highly evolved… and tough. They can’t see that, so they turn on you.” She explained. Gwen went on to say that in the last couple of months, my “perceptions” have been getting stronger and stronger. This also struck me as true… This is the most spiritually intuitive I’ve ever been since I hit puberty. She advised me to continue listening to the Universe (i.e. God) when it speaks. As for my concerns about Beau*, she eased my mind by assuring that he deeply loved me.

Later that night, I touched base with my cousin, Mona and made plans to visit her the next day. I got a little lost finding her place, so she was waiting outside for me when I pulled up to her condo. Boy, was she was eager to meet Eunice! Mona is jovial, quick-witted, fiercely independent and boldly assertive… traits not uncommon for women on this side of the family. She’s also good-looking. With large, wide-set eyes, high, dimpled cheeks, and square jaw line, she has a resemblance to Helena Bonham Carter. Every time I see Helena Bonham Carter flash across the screen, I think of cousin Mona, her dark facsimile.

She rushed up to me and gave me a big hug. I happily gave her a nickel tour of my home. Mona’s daughter (a gifted violinist) was on a music tour in Europe with her college class. I was offered her room to stay in and made myself at home. When I was growing up, I would see Mona and my other cousin, Margene* (from Richmond) once a year. They have about 10 years on me, so I was never able to hang out with them as an equal. My aunt (who was the same age as them) would join them on local excursions and have all the fun instead. Sometimes, they’d take me along… but it wasn’t “big girl” fun!

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my cousin. Maybe, the last time I’ve seen her was at a funeral. We sat in her beautifully decorated living room and did a lot of catching up. We talked about our not so great marriages and life after our divorces. “The women in our family have no luck with marriage.” She said with a bluntness that was softened by the lilt of her Jamaican accent. “We’re just too hard-headed and strong-willed.” She continued. I didn’t want that to be true, but I nodded my head in agreement because maybe it was. I see myself as easygoing, having a softer temperament than most people I know and I don’t consider myself “a feminist”. However, I have come to recognize that there is something unyielding in me that cannot be dominated or compromised. Perhaps we are daughters of Lilith and not Eve.

My great grandmother had 11 children. With the exception of one, all of her daughters (including my grandmother) had tragically broken marriages or a string of unfortunate romances. The boy children, however, seemed to have escaped this curse with good wives and intact homes. But, maybe this is because these women were raised in a third world culture where parents treat female children far more harshly than males.

Mona made plans for us to visit my great aunt Gladis* in Hampton, 45 minutes away. We drove in her car and had a discussion about our family’s past and there were jokes and laughs sewn in between. We both hashed out old family secrets before moving on to share our disappointments. I discovered that I wasn’t the only one who felt abandoned and betrayed by kin at my most vulnerable hour of need. For her, it was a life-threatening illness… myself, a divorce. I quickly realized that my experience wasn’t unique to just my immediate family. I was now able to stand back and see that all the dysfunction that I endured (even into adulthood) had little to do with me. My familial misfortunes were part of a much bigger problem! I found this both comforting and disturbing. Through faith in God, Mona was able to forgive all the wrongs. I, in contrast, remain less magnanimous.

We pulled up to our aunt’s house and she invited us inside. Her lovely mirrored living room looked exactly as I remembered it as a child! Strangely, it did not look or feel outdated. It was as if time moved on, but didn’t. After some catching up and joking around, we headed out to have lunch at a near by restaurant. Before we ate, Mona cued for us to pray grace. After seeing people publicly praying in restaurants everywhere, it was my turn!

We returned to Aunt Gladis’ house after lunch and retired to her youngest daughter’s bedroom, which was converted into a den. It was, in reality, the family museum. All of the walls were covered, top to bottom with framed photos of our clan, spanning six generations. I even spotted my own picture, a high school senior portrait!

Aunt Gladis gave me four old photo albums to look through. One of them had black and white pictures that were from the 1950’s and 60’s. It felt like I should be handling the pages wearing white cotton gloves. Most of the people in the album I didn’t recognize, but I did get a glimpse of Aunt Gladis’ life as a young nurse living in England. Roughly half of my large family immigrated to the UK since Jamaica was once under the British crown.

There was one photo of her standing outside her apartment building in a white, buttoned-up nursing uniform. She had perfectly styled curls, meticulously arched eyebrows and (what I could imagine to be) deep, crimson lips. It was evident that she had a certain maturity and poise that is rarely seen in young women nowadays. As I continued through the album, I managed to recognize some of my great uncles during the “Madmen days” whose dapper suits and youthful good looks nearly startled me!

Mona and I returned to Virginia Beach to relax for the rest of the evening. She offered me her washer and dryer to do my laundry and I gladly accepted. At the end of the night, I went to her daughter’s room to retire. Looking around, it was easy to tell that this room belongs to someone bright, cheery, and full of life… someone who was raised happy. She was in Europe living her dream, a dream that her mother lovingly supported since she was a young child. Destructive patterns of the past doesn’t have to control a family’s future. I have hope.

Side Note: My great grandma and grandma loved watching The 700 Club! In their honor, I went to a taping at CBN studios while I was in town. You can see more photos on my FaceBook page!

There’s now a Facebook page for my Gypsy Blog and all of you are invited to join! This will be the fastest, easiest way for readers and fellow gypsies to interact, converse and participate in all sorts of randomness… There’s also access to photos not posted on my blog!